Home for Christmas
by Gmariam
Summary: Ianto fully anticipates his Christmas going pear-shaped; the universe doesn't let up for holidays, after all. He's home for the first time in years and only wonders what form his celebratory doom will take this year.
1. Chapter 1

1.

It's been a busy week, and the past twenty-four hours have been particularly challenging, even for Torchwood. Ianto fully anticipates his Christmas going pear-shaped; the universe doesn't let up for holidays, as working in London proved time and again. He only wonders what form his celebratory doom will take this year.

* * *

"So what happened to your car exactly?" his sister asks from the stove, where she's whisking the gravy for the turkey cooking in the oven alongside the pork roast. The kitchen smells delicious, and in spite of a feeling of distance he can't shake, Ianto is glad he's there, especially for a good, home-cooked meal. It's the first time he's spent Christmas with his family since he left for London years ago. His mum asked, year after year, but he'd had no interest in returning home. And Torchwood usually found itself quite busy on Christmas, so he'd always stayed in the city, begging off with the excuse of work. The previous year had been his one and only holiday with Lisa, something he's trying very hard not to think about, and as long as Rhiannon doesn't say anything about her, he'll be fine.

"Just an accident," Ianto replies. He's cutting the potatoes, concentrating carefully because his mum is very particular about her potatoes. She'd probably be doing them herself if she hadn't hurt her shoulder when some rude holiday shopper had knocked her over at the Hayes; instead she's resting in the living room after overseeing preparations for both the turkey and the roast, reading to Mica while David plays his new video game. Ianto has no idea where Johnny is or what he's doing.

Rhiannon turns around and frowns. "Are you all right? You didn't say anything about an accident on the phone, only that you didn't have a car."

"I wasn't in an accident," Ianto tells her. "Only the car."

"Like, in a car park or something?"

"Something like that," Ianto murmurs absently.

"Ianto," she presses. "Why can't you tell me?"

"Because a man died in my car," he finally snaps. She's been badgering him since the moment he walked in the door, question after question about work and his flat and his love life. Why couldn't they talk about normal things, like the weather and rugby and the latest gossip around the estate? Ianto sighs. Because they aren't normal—or, rather, he isn't normal, and sometimes he feels as if they must know it. How could they not suspect he's lying to them about everything—his job, his friends, his dead girlfriend?

Then he remembers: he's good at lying. He's been doing it for years, and did it so well he hid a cyberbeing in the basement of the Hub for months before his coworkers found out. He probably should have lied about the car, told them it'd been stolen for parts or something, but it's Christmas and he doesn't want to lie. Not today.

Rhiannon is staring at him with her mouth hanging open; she looks ridiculous, and he snorts.

"Close your mouth, it's not like I killed him," he tells her. If he peels that particular potato a little more aggressively, he's sure it will taste as good as the others.

"I didn't think you did," she murmurs, still staring. "What happened?"

"Stole it and gassed himself," Ianto replies shortly. "And as I rather liked the car and hate thinking about him dying in my front seat, I'd prefer to not talk about it." Even worse the thought of Jack finding John Ellis, returning to the Hub red-eyed and smelling of fumes.

She's quiet for a moment. "Did you know him, then?"

Oh, that's a harder question. No lies, but he doesn't have to tell the whole tangled truth. "Yes, I knew him through work. Not talking about it though, remember?"

"Right." She turns back to the stove. "I'm sorry," she says. "Not the best Christmas, I imagine."

"You don't know the half of it," Ianto mutters to himself. After taking the bus to work the morning after John Ellis's suicide, he'd then had to deal with his teammates: Jack, upset over his failure to save the older man; Owen, angry that Diane had thrown herself back into the Rift; Gwen, sad to see her charge off to London at the train station. Only Tosh had been her normal self, and so it had been Tosh he'd talked to most of the morning, and who'd gone with him to hire a car for the week.

They'd even stopped for coffee, until they'd all been called out to a Christmas tree farm north of Llanishen, where they'd spent the rest of the day and most of the night chasing down the strange, tentacled aliens who'd infested the trees. And of course half of the infested batch of trees had already been purchased and hauled away to happy homes, which meant tracking down every person who'd bought one, decorated it, and set their presents underneath. Fortunately, most of the trees had been found and confiscated without argument from the family or the alien in the tree, and only two families had to be Retconned when the normally quiet Cirrata had tried to strangle them. It had been a late night, though, and after a quick Christmas Eve toast, they'd all gone home exhausted.

"Are you sure about this job?" she asks. Ah, time to start on the job again. She's already asked him what he does, how does he like it, what are his coworkers like? Perhaps it's normal small talk for most people, but coming from his older sister it's more like an interrogation, and when he can't answer most of her questions, it's very difficult to reply.

"Not all the time," he tells her honestly. "Sometimes it's a bit rough around the edges." Understatement of the year. He grins to himself, thinking about their ongoing battle with the Weevil population, not to mention sex gas aliens, fairies, and time travelers. "And the hours are hard some days, but the pay is great, and it matters." He waves the knife at her before she can scoff at him. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but it does. I'm doing something important." He goes back to his potatoes, telling himself that coffee is definitely important. "Most days."

He finishes the last potato with a cry of triumph. Standing to stretch, he takes his pile of potatoes over to the pan on the stove and slides them in. Rhiannon seasons them and slides the pan into the crowded oven. Setting the dishes near the sink to be washed and dried later, Ianto goes to the refrigerator and grabs another beer. Rhiannon tries to stop him.

"Hey, that'll spoil your dinner, that will!" she says, and he rolls his eyes.

"It'll tide me over," he replies, ducking into the dining room and nabbing some cheese and biscuits from the table. "Or at least get me through the next twenty questions."

"Ianto," she says. "I'm not trying to badger you—"

"Could have fooled me!" he says cheerfully, raising the bottle in a toast, and she huffs at him.

"But we worry, mum and I. You've been back in Cardiff for months and this is what? The second time we've all had dinner together? You're family, Ianto, and that's important. Especially now, with mum…"

He stares at the bottle in his hands and sighs. In a way, she's right. They are his family, and his mum needs them both more than ever now. Yet sometimes he doesn't feel like he's a part of the family anymore. He's so different—always was, really—and he's been through so much now, he can barely relate to their lives. And he can't tell them about his, so what's the point?

"I know," he says softly. "And I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. And I will do everything I can to help mum."

"Okay," she says, nodding. She pours herself a glass of wine. "Then what are you going to do about your car?"

He shrugs. "Insurance should reimburse the value of the car, and my boss said he'd cover the rest to replace it." From the frown on her face, he realizes he's slipped.

"Your boss?"

"It happened at work," he replies.

"That's generous," she says, still sounding confused. "Must be a nice boss."

He almost spits out his beer, but his mobile vibrates in the pocket of his jeans and draws his attention instead. It's Jack, and Ianto half wonders if Jack knew they were talking about him.

 _The Cirrata are back! Someone sold some bad trees off the side of the road. Owen and I are tracking them down now. Busy?_

Ianto sighs. He'd have a hell of a time explaining why he has to go in to work on Christmas Day, and truth be told, he's had enough of Torchwood and time travelers and aliens. He'd like one day to try and be normal, catch up with his family before they forget what he looks like, or worse. Yes, they may badger him into unconsciousness, but his mum is ill and they're his _family._ He texts back, not sure what to expect in reply.

 _Having Christmas dinner with my family in Newport._

 _Understood. Stay on call if we need you._

He's both surprised, and not. Jack isn't aware of his mum's situation, as Ianto prefers to keep such things private, but he knows that Ianto doesn't spend much time with his family. They'd talked about it once, before Lisa had died, and again afterward when Jack had been trying so hard to help him through it. That he's allowing Ianto to stay means something, though Ianto is not sure what it means. He's grateful, however.

 _Yes, sir. Thank you. Call if you need anything._

Rhiannon is watching him with a smile. "Someone special?" she asks, and once again Ianto snorts.

"Hardly," he says. "Just my boss. Work stuff."

"Right," she nods knowingly, clearly not believing him. "And does your boss always text you on Christmas or—"

She is cut off by a high pitched scream from the living room, followed by a shout, and then, "Ianto! Get the broom!"

Mica screams again. "Or a big gun!" David shouts.

Ianto exchanges a look with his sister and they hurry into the living room. Mica is curled up in her grandmother's lap, her eyes squeezed shut. David is standing in front of the tree, staring at it with wide eyes.

"There's something in there!" he says, pointing at it. A slim furry tentacle shoots out and grabs his wrist, and he yells, ripping his hand away. There is a red ring around his arm, and Ianto knows from experience that it stings. Rhiannon runs over to David, taking his hand and pulling him away from the tree.

"Baking soda and water paste," Ianto tells her over his shoulder as he slowly approaches the tree. The tree rustles ominously and a tentacle reaches out toward him. He wonders if this is part of the infestation Jack and Owen are chasing down and debates calling them when another tentacle shoots out of the tree, followed by several more.

It's big. Really big.

He takes a step closer, and the alien hisses at him from within the branches. Reaching instinctively for his gun, as this Cirrata is obviously full grown, unpredictable, and aggressive, he realizes he's left his gun locked in the glove box of the car he'd hired. "Shit."

"Ianto!" his mum whispers.

"Sorry," he replies, thinking about how to subdue the alien and not his response. "I left my gun in the car."

"Your gun?" Rhiannon exclaims.

"Cool!" David shouts, and his mum hushes him, turning back to Ianto.

"Ianto, what's going on? What is that?"

"It's a Cirrata," he tells her automatically, taking another tentative step forward to get a better look. Curled around the trunk of the tree, the creature looks like a cross between a sloth and an octopus. With the camouflage capabilities of a chameleon, its tentacles blend in like branches as it sucks the sap from the tree. It hisses at him and spits. Ianto knows—again, from experience—that any sort of contact with the alien is like getting a bad case of poison ivy, only far more painful. He still has the welts to prove it.

It's the largest creature he's seen, and the most aggressive, and he's not sure what to do with it. Most of the others had been young and small, remaining calm, quiet, and in the tree, and though they'd been prepared with tranquilizers the day before, they'd only had to use them twice. Gwen had wanted to save them, keep them at the Hub, until Jack had told her that Cirrata were nothing more than pests on their home planet, like overgrown insects who existed only to eat, sleep, and reproduce. On earth they were dangerous, sucking the sap from pine trees and excreting a substance that was poisonous for humans. He'd seen an infestation once before, back in the thirties, when a nest had grown so large that several people had been killed and several acres of land decimated. Fully grown, they could be hostile when provoked; there would be no saving them.

And yet she'd still tried talking to it like a pet, until it had wrapped its tentacles around her neck. Tosh had shot it in the head, releasing her, and after that, Gwen had understood the necessity of putting them down back at the Hub. She hadn't liked it, but none of them did; they only understood better. Now Ianto was facing one on his own, without any sort of weapon, in a confined space with civilians present.

Bloody Torchwood.

"Mum, take Mica to the kitchen and get me the biggest knife you can," Ianto says softly. He can almost feel the nervous energy from the alien, like a cornered dog, ready to attack at any moment. "Rhiannon, get that paste on David's arm, it probably hurts like hell."

"Language, Ianto," his mum murmurs, and he rolls his eyes even though she can't see him. He hears them leave the room and takes out his phone, dialing Jack's number and keeping a close eye on the tree.

"Happy Christmas!" Jack exclaims, sounding excited. "Change your mind about chasing aliens with us this lovely night?"

"No, I've got one in my house," Ianto replies. "Or rather, my sister's house. It just got my nephew."

Jack swears, abruptly serious. "Is he all right? Where are you?"

"I'm in Newport." He rattles off the address. "And he's fine, Rhiannon's got the kids in the kitchen." His mum comes back and hands him a knife. "And I've got a really big knife."

"All right. We're about fifteen minutes away, can you keep it calm until then?"

"That depends," Ianto replies dryly. "How much Retcon do you have?"

"Plenty," Jack replies. "If we need it."

His mum walks past him to gaze at the tree. A tentacle shoots out and slaps her across the face, and she falls back, surprised. "We'll need it," Ianto replies, and hangs up to help his mother.

She has a large red mark across her cheek. He guides her to the kitchen, where Rhiannon is smearing white paste on David's arm and clearly trying to stay calm. Mica is telling Johnny all about the monster in the tree, although Ianto has no idea when he appeared.

"What the hell is going on?" Johnny asks. "There's something in the tree that hit David?"

Ianto gets a clean washcloth, wets it with warm water, and smears it with baking soda. He offers it to his mother for her face before turning to Johnny. "Yes, and you're going to help me get it out."

"Like hell I will," Johnny starts, and Ianto's mum shakes her head at him.

"Language, John," she tells him. "And do as he says. He knows what he's talking about."

Ianto glances at him mother in surprise. "Well, I assume you do, since you recognized it."

"I saw it on the news," he tells them with a shrug. "Apparently they got into a number of trees. Where did you get yours?"

Johnny shrugs. "Bought it off a bloke on the road, selling them for twenty quid. Why?"

"Because it's probably part of a larger infestation. I'll need to know exactly where you got it, but we have to contain it first." He glances around the small kitchen. "I need a broom after all, and a large box." He can't shoot it since he doesn't have a gun, and he doesn't want to kill it in front of his family anyway. Jack is on his way, and he and Owen can deal with disposing of it back at the Hub. Right now Ianto needs to capture it so it doesn't injure anyone else. He motions Johnny toward the living room and tells the others to stay in the kitchen.

He grabs a blanket from the sofa and tosses it to Johnny. "All right, here's the plan. I'm going to poke it until it comes out. They're not exceptionally fast, so you throw the blanket over it, and I'll cover it with the box." He pauses. "It looks like a big one, so I might need some help holding it down."

"Holding what down?" Johnny asks, staring at the tree. It's rattling on its own, like the alien is agitated at being discovered. "What the hell is that thing?"

"It's called a Cirrata," Ianto tells him. "Strange little things that live on pine sap. Don't let it get near you, or you'll have some nice welts to show for it." He pokes the tree; the thing hisses at him and a big globule of spit flies past.

"How do you know all this?" Johnny asks, holding up the blanket and trying not to look terrified. "You didn't see it on the news."

"I spent most of the day yesterday tracking them down," Ianto replies with another poke. Six tentacles shoot out; one brushes the back of his hand, leaving a large red line. "And this is the biggest one I've seen. How the hell did you not notice a great bloody alien living in your tree?"

"It's an alien?" Johnny asks, staring at him in surprise. Ianto rolls his eyes.

"You didn't think it was Welsh, did you?"

"How the hell should I know?" Johnny demands, growing defensive. "And what the hell are you doing chasing aliens on Christmas?"

"Language!" his mother calls from the kitchen. Ianto mutters under his breath.

"My job," he says. He pokes it hard and it rewarded when it comes flying out of the tree, straight for his face. Several tentacles hit him about the head and face before he manages to smack it down with the broom. "Johnny! The blanket!"

Johnny recovers his wits and throws the blanket over it, confusing it long enough for Ianto to cover it with the box. It immediately begins jumping around, and he pushes down hard. Johnny rushes over and places a small ottoman on top. The box bounces a little, but they surround it with chairs from the dining room and then stand back to admire their makeshift cage. Ianto can't help it: he bursts out laughing, even as he feels his face starting to sting.

"Bloody hell," Johnny murmurs, eyes wide in shock.

"Jonathan Davies," Ianto's mother says, walking into the living room with the flannel still held to her face. "Stop that right now. It's Christmas and I don't want to hear that sort of language in front of the children anymore."

"It's a fucking alien," Johnny protests. "In my house!"

"And it's probably scared to death by your shouting and cursing, so put a sock in it!" She turns to Ianto, who's staring at her. "So dear, see many aliens at the tourist office then?"

And just like that, Christmas—and his life—will never be the same.

* * *

Author's Note:  
I wanted to write another Christmas story, and Taamar challenged me to write about tentacles. Actually, she gave me quite a long prompt, but the tentacles were the only part that made it in. So my apologies, but I do hope you enjoy it anyway, my dear! Not as serious as my last, four parts and up quick barring any travel issues. Happy Holidays!


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Ianto checks his watch; Jack said he'd be there in fifteen minutes, which means Ianto has at least five more minutes of putting off his family's questions as they all stand around and gawk at him like he's a stranger.

"Mum, I—" He winces and reaches up toward his face. The Cirrata hit him several times and he probably looks terrible. His mother holds out her washcloth, and he presses it to his cheek, a nice distraction for about ten seconds.

"You were saying?" she asks. Everyone is still staring at him, except David who is on the floor watching the box hiss and bounce every few seconds.

"I helped track some down yesterday, that's all," he says with a casual shrug. "Bit of a situation, so I helped."

"Helped who?" asked Johnny. "Animal control? The police? MI5?"

Ianto laughs nervously. "Not exactly."

"Ianto," Rhiannon starts. "Why in the world do you have a gun in your car?"

"Bay area's a bit dodgy at night," he offers.

"Bullshit," Johnny replies, then apologizes before Glenda can protest. "You knew what that thing was, what it did. You said it was your job."

"I—"

Several things happen then. David reaches under a chair and pokes the box, and a slim tentacle reaches out and grabs him again, this time around the elbow. He screams, Mica screams, and Johnny screams. Ianto reacts on instinct and grabs the knife he'd set down on a nearby table, chopping off the tentacle with a quick, hard slice. It's like cutting a hose, and blood shoots out as the Cirrata lets out a hideous scream of pain. Ianto swears and pulls David away.

"You're too nosy for your own good," he mutters, wiping blood from his hands. "Rhiannon, he's going to want his arm wrapped, can you—"

At that moment Jack bursts in the door, Owen right behind him, both of them with their guns out. This time Rhiannon screams; Ianto is proud of his mum for being the only one to hold it together at this point.

"Ianto!" Jack exclaims, eyes widening as he takes in the situation: three of them sporting red welts, blood on the carpet, a hissing box on the floor surrounded by chairs. "Are you all right?"

Owen pushes past everyone to examine him, but Ianto waves him away. "I'm fine, I'll take care of it later. It's a big one, Jack. We need to get it out of here."

The box rumbles and hisses and another tentacle sneaks out. Everyone takes steps back.

"Wow," says Jack, staring at the box. "How did you manage to capture it?"

"A broom, a blanket, and a box," Ianto replies dryly.

"Nice work," Jack says, and he sounds like he means it.

"Thanks. Now what?"

"Well, it's obviously not happy, so we'll have to knock it out first," Jack says. Ianto's mum turns to him with a frown.

"You're not going to kill it, are you?"

"Christ, here we go again," Owen mutters. Jack, however, smiles blindingly at Glenda Jones.

"Ma'am, this pest is dangerous. It is more than capable of strangling a full grown man, and it's poisonous to touch. I'm afraid we have no choice, otherwise they will destroy every pine tree between here and the coast and there goes Christmas!"

She stares hard at him, as if trying to read the truth of it in his face in spite of the jokes and charm, before nodding curtly. "Fine, but not in front of the children."

"Of course not, ma'am. We'll take it with us."

"Rhiannon, we need to take care of David's injuries."

"I want to watch!" David cries, and Rhiannon literally throws up her hands before grabbing him by the back of the shirt.

"Like hell you are," she says.

"Rhiannon," their mum murmurs.

"Come on, upstairs, both of you," she says to the kids. "You too, mum. Johnny, you help Ianto."

Johnny nods compliantly this time, looking back and forth between Jack, Ianto, and Owen. "I threw the blanket," he offers.

"Good work," says Jack, clapping him on the shoulder. "Owen, what do you think?"

"How big is it?" Owen asks.

Ianto shrugs. "Looks full grown from the files we pulled yesterday. Tentacles are at least two or three meters, and I chopped one off so it's really pissed off now."

"Damn, teaboy, that's impressive," Owen says. He takes out the tranquilizer gun, adjusts the dose, and sets his stance. "All right, let's do this."

Jack has his Webley ready just in case and nods at Ianto. He's not quite sure how to move the box without getting tentacled—if that's even a verb—but with so many people watching, he grabs the broom again, takes a breath, and pushes the box off as best as he can. The alien is still tangled in the blanket, hissing and spitting and bleeding all over the carpet. Before it can even try to get free of the blanket, Owen takes aim and shoots it with the dart gun. It flails madly, screeching, until it finally flops down, still and silent. Ianto's heart is racing.

He pokes it with the broom, lifts the blanket off; it's definitely out. "Well, that's sorted," he says, and Jack looks at him skeptically, because it's going to be a hell of a cleanup on this one.

Without warning the room spins and Ianto stumbles before sitting down heavily on the sofa and putting his elbows on his knees. Jack is there immediately.

"You all right?" he asks, one hand on Ianto's shoulder as the other reaches toward his face. "You're injured."

"Adrenaline crash," Owen says, nudging Jack out of the way. "And it got him pretty good, on top of the welts from yesterday." He's already taking a needle from his little black bag. "This should bring down the pain and swelling for now, but those are going to need a good cleaning back at the Hub."

Ianto hisses as Owen injects him in the upper arm. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to regain his equilibrium. "I'm fine," he says. "And I can't go back, too much to do here."

Owen glances around. Johnny is staring at them, and standing in the doorway Ianto's mum is watching as well. Ianto sighs, because he has no idea what he's going to say to them. So he doesn't, not yet. Standing up, he goes into professional mode.

"All right, I suppose we need to start by securing the alien and cleaning up the site," he says. He pushes past the light-headedness and Jack's continued look of concern. "Owen, if you take it out to the SUV, I can get started cleaning up the furniture and the blood and…" He trails off as he realizes how much there is to do.

"Ianto, you should—" Jack starts, but Ianto waves him off.

"No, Jack, I shouldn't. I should be here, with my family, fixing this."

"Right." Jack eyes him thoughtfully before nodding. He turns to the doctor. "Owen, I think we need to bring Tosh in on this. You and her can keep tracking down the rest of the trees while Ianto and I clean up here."

Owen glances back and forth between them before nodding; thankfully he doesn't say anything. "Let's get it out to the SUV and you can gather what you need before I pick her up."

Jack nods. Owen throws him a pair of thick gloves so they can lift the alien into the box. Ianto feels no need to help as he doesn't have gloves and has already been stung enough. He follows them to the front door. "You don't need to stay," he tells Jack quietly before they step outside. "I can handle it on my own."

Jack nods. "I know you can. That doesn't mean you should, not when family is involved."

"I'll send him back in with Retcon, cream for your face, and some of that spray you like to clean up with," Owen says. "Anything else?"

"That'll be enough. I'll call Tosh while you two talk about me outside," Ianto replies. He turns away before they can protest. Johnny is still standing in the living room staring at the tree, while his mum has apparently gone upstairs to help Rhiannon. Stepping into the dining room, Ianto calls Tosh and tells her Owen is on his way to pick her up for some more alien wrangling. He doesn't tell her about his own misadventure, but wishes her a happy Christmas and promises to fill her in on his own holiday next time he sees her. Then he goes to the bathroom to wash some of the alien blood away, and tries very hard not to fall apart.

His family has been attacked by aliens. Granted, it was a single fuzzy octopus living in a Christmas tree, but the secret is out: Ianto has a gun. Ianto chases aliens. Ianto is sleeping with his boss. No, wait, that last probably isn't obvious from his brief interaction with Jack, at least he hopes so. And it's definitely not the worst of the three. His mum is likely more worried about the gun than the job, and while his nephew will probably think he's the coolest uncle ever, Rhiannon will never let it go. And Johnny will never keep it quiet.

So his family watched him save Christmas, and yet in a few hours they won't remember a thing. He's actually done something important, something they can be proud of, something that _matters_ , and he has to make them forget everything about it. The irony burns, that maybe if they knew him, the real him, they would accept him more. He wouldn't feel like he was always keeping secrets and might rekindle some of his relationship with them.

Only he can't let them know, because that isn't allowed. Occasionally a spouse or partner was brought in on Torchwood's existence, but Jack hasn't let Rhys Williams in on it yet, and for the most part Torchwood operatives live in a world of lies. There's too much risk that someone might give them up, or even inadvertently slip and reveal something they shouldn't, putting everyone in danger. While some people might be perfectly all right knowing about the existence of aliens and the organization that works to protect the planet, others would panic, grow angry, even violent. Though the 21st century is when everything changes (according to Jack, anyway), not much has changed yet in terms of the human race accepting monsters in their midst; London has proved that several times now.

And Ianto's family is not the one to lead the way. His brother-in-law would struggle to keep it secret while his sister would struggle not to worry and therefore badger him even more. Ianto isn't sure what his mum would think, but his niece and nephew are too young to understand keeping such secrets. They'd think it was amazing that their uncle fought aliens, and David wouldn't waste a minute telling his friends.

So Retcon it is. Ianto's hands are shaking as he sits down abruptly on the toilet lid, lightheaded again as his family life comes crashing down around him once more. As Christmases went, it's pretty damn bad, but at least he's the only one who will remember it. He laughs bitterly at the thought of eating Christmas dinner alone while his family sleeps through a Retcon-induced holiday nap, but stops when he hears a knock at the door, followed by a voice.

"Ianto?" Jack calls through the door. "Are you in there?"

"Yep," Ianto answers. He doesn't move, though. He's not quite ready to do this yet.

"Are you all right?" asks Jack, and Ianto shakes his head until he remembers Jack can't see him.

"Nope," he replies. The door handle jiggles.

"Can I come in?"

"Seriously?" asks Ianto, but he stands anyway to unlock the door.

"Seriously," says Jack. "Let me in so we can talk."

"In the loo?" Ianto asks as he opens the door. Jack steps in—it's a tight fit for two grown men—and shuts it behind him.

"Why not? More privacy. I think that guy Johnny is still standing in the middle of the room staring at the tree, waiting for something else to jump out."

Ianto rolls his eyes and sits down on the toilet again. "He's my brother-in-law, and it's possible he's not as big as an idiot as he seems."

"Could have fooled me," Jack replies. "Your mum, though, she's—"

"Don't you dare say it," Ianto says, but he's holding back a smile. "That's wrong even for you!"

"I was going to say intelligent, articulate, and open-minded," Jack protests, but Ianto doesn't believe him for a minute. He sighs, leans back, and closes his eyes.

"She's also sick," he says softly. "How am I supposed to Retcon my own mum when she's sick?"

Jack is silent for a moment. "What's wrong?" he asks. Ianto takes several deep breaths; it's still hard to talk about.

"She found a lump," Ianto finally tells him. "About two months ago, right about when we…well, then. Yeah." He pauses, tries to regain control of his emotions. "It's cancer, and...we're hoping she makes it another year."

Ianto opens his eyes to find Jack kneeling in front of him, his hand clasping Ianto's hand and squeezing tight. "I'm sorry," he says. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Rewind time?" Ianto laughs nervously. Why is Jack still holding his hand? "Reset this night, maybe the last two months, or perhaps the entire rubbish year?"

Jack's head falls forward, and he sighs. Ianto feels bad; it's not the time for his personal troubles, and he shouldn't be laying them on Jack anyway. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" he starts to say, but Jack's other hand comes up to cup his face, and what the hell is that for?

"Stop," Jack says. "You have nothing to apologize for. You've had a hell of a year and now all this, and on Christmas." He leans forward and kisses Ianto, awkward in the small space and yet also so very perfect. It is their mode of comfort, though in that moment it feels like more. Ianto wants to let go and lose himself, but also run and hide, curl up in a ball and sob in a corner somewhere. Unfortunately, he can do neither. He's in the bathroom of his sister's house and he still has a job to do.

So he pulls away, telling himself not to think about it, and ducks his head to get a handle on his expression, not to mention his emotions. He looks up and is about to say something when there is another knock on the door.

"Ianto?" his mother asks quietly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, mum," he calls, looking at Jack in a panic. "I'll be out in a moment."

"All right," she says. "Don't be long. We're all quite curious about your alien, you know."

The problem is, they won't remember anything about it when the night is over.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Ianto swears under his breath, waits until he hears his mum walk away. "What do I do?" he asks Jack. If it were anyone but his own family, he'd know exactly what to do, but this is so very different, so personal, that he's at a complete loss.

"Your lead," Jack replies quietly.

"I have to Retcon my own family," Ianto says, numb. "They won't remember any of this."

"It's probably best, based on what I saw," Jack says. Ianto agrees, but he still doesn't like it.

"What about my mother?" Ianto asks. "Is it safe?" Jack smiles and nods.

"You're a good son, you know that? Yes, it's safe." He leaves something unsaid, though, and Ianto can't help but ask.

"Is it necessary?" he whispers. "She won't say anything, and she hasn't got long…"

"Your lead," Jack replies again. Ianto does not know what that means, exactly, and snaps at him.

"Tell me what to do, Jack! Since I've been here, we've not let anyone out of Retcon. Even Rhys Williams doesn't know what Gwen does. Why should my family be an exception?"

"They probably shouldn't," Jack replies. "But your mother is different."

"She's family," Ianto says.

"She's dying," Jack replies. "Maybe letting her have this memory is a gift."

Ianto barks out a bitter laugh. "She got slapped in the face by a furry alien with tentacles, Jack. How is that a good memory?"

"She watched her son handle it like the strong, competent Torchwood agent he is," Jack says softly in response. And there's his hand again, on Ianto's shoulder, rubbing out the tension in his neck. "Let her see that about you."

"Are you sure?" Ianto asks, and Jack shrugs.

"Not really, but I trust you, so if you think she's okay remembering this, then let her remember."

"She can help with the cleanup," Ianto points out. "Keep an eye on the others, play up the cover story."

Jack kisses him again, quick and unexpected, very unprofessional but quite nice at the moment. "Sorted, then. Let's go." He turns to leave, but Ianto reaches for his hand.

"Wait," he says, and Jack turns back to him curiously. "Jack," Ianto starts, but finds the words tangled on his tongue. "Thank you," he says instead. It's all he can manage. Jack squeezes his hand.

"Come on, let's do this. You talk to your mum and I'll take care of the others."

"No," Ianto says, shaking his head. "I'll do it. You take them in the living room, tell them the basics. I'll be in to do the rest."

Jack shakes his head. "You're amazing, you know. Stronger than anyone thinks, every time."

Ianto rolls his eyes and motions at Jack to open the door. They step out only to find his mum standing right there waiting for them. Her eyes widen for a moment at the sight of two grown men leaving the bathroom. Then Jack winks at her, and she frowns as he goes into the living room, while Ianto stands before her, not sure what to say.

She reaches up to touch his face. Owen's shot helped with the swelling and pain, but he still looks and feels terrible. She takes his hand and leads him to the kitchen. At some point someone took out the turkey and roast to rest on the counter; Ianto wonders what will become of the food as his mum rinses a washcloth, fills it with baking soda, and hands it to him. He holds it against his face and they are silent, sitting at the table without looking at one another.

"You work for Torchwood," she finally says, glancing up to meet his eyes. "Don't you?"

"Yes," he nods. He reaches out to take her hand and holds tight. "I joined in London," he tells her. "When it was destroyed during the terrorist attack at Canary Wharf, I was there. I came here afterward and continued with the Cardiff branch."

"It's dangerous," she says, her voice trembling. "That's why you have a gun."

"It is," he tells her. "But it's also important. What happened today? We do that every week, sometimes every day."

"You protect us," she murmurs, looking at him in wonder. "You protect us from monsters, and yet you told us you have a boring job at a tourist office, that you're nothing more than a civil servant."

He shrugs. "In a way, I am a civil servant. But I'm a civil servant who signed the Official Secrets Act. Everything I do is classified."

She seems to be taking it in fairly well. "Will we need to sign the Official Secrets Act, now that we know?" she asks. Ianto sighs and glances down.

"Yes," he says. "If you want to remember this."

"What?" she asks.

"I can help you forget," he tells her. "It's what we do, so people don't panic. We fix their memories, so they don't remember the terrible things we see and do to protect them."

"And you'd do that to your family?" she asks, sounding only short of horrified.

"It's classified," he says. He feels awful having to explain this particular aspect of his job. "Most of Whitehall doesn't even know about us. And I don't think…I don't think the others should know. David and Mica can't keep this secret, and Johnny'd be even worse. Rhiannon would worry too much…" He trails off at the look on her face.

"What about me?"

"Jack…that's the man out there, our boss…he said you could remember. If you want."

"Why me?" she asks. Ianto offers a small smile.

"Because I could use the help cleaning up?" he says, and she rolls her eyes, just like he does. "Because I could use the moral support," he admits. "And I trust you."

"Because I'm dying," she fills in, and he squeezes her hand.

"This is who I am, mum," he tells her. "This is what I do. I'm more than what dad always said I'd be. I'm doing something important, really important, and I want you to know that, to know who I really am." _So you can be proud_ , he thinks to himself, but he would never say it out loud.

"I feel like I hardly know you," she says, but she's smiling. "My little boy, getting in trouble, running away, losing touch…and all this time you've done so much more than we ever knew." She smiles. "Will you tell me about it?"

"What I can," he says, returning the smile. "Some of it's quite boring, like making coffee and archiving and talking to the Queen…" He trails off; he only said it to see her response, and it's perfect. Her mouth falls open and she sits back, eyes wide.

"You've…you've talked to the Queen?" she says, her voice almost a reverent whisper. Ianto nods.

"Once or twice. Usually she prefers to speak with our boss, but sometimes he's a bit rough around the edges."

"Oh Ianto," she says, grasping his hand again. "I'm so proud of you!" Of course, it has less to do with chasing aliens and more to do with the fact that he's talked to the Queen, but he'll take it.

There is a cough from the doorway then, and they turn to find Jack standing there, looking reluctant. "I think it's time," he says.

Glenda glances back and forth from Jack to Ianto. "You're sure it won't hurt them, whatever you do to their memories?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jack replies. "It's completely safe. They won't remember anything about the alien in the tree when they wake up."

"When they wake up?" she asks in surprise. "Won't they wonder why they fell asleep in the middle of Christmas dinner?"

"It'll all be part of the story we suggest to replace their memories, mum," Ianto tells her. "Trust me, we've done this dozens of times."

"What will you tell them?" she asks. "So I don't ruin it."

Ianto glances at Jack, who once again motions at him to take the lead. Ianto stands up to prepare some drinks: another beer for Johnny, tea for Rhiannon, chocolate milk for the kids, lemon water for his mum to keep up the pretense. Jack places the appropriate dose of Retcon in each, except for the lemon water. Ianto settles the story in his head, then turns to Jack.

"I think keeping it simple is the best way to go. We all fell asleep watching a film, except for mum, of course," he adds. "She saved dinner from burning."

"What about you, dear?"

"I woke up and you chivvied me home right before everyone woke up," Ianto shrugs.

"You should take some food, then, or Rhiannon will call you to come right back for a proper dinner."

He nods. "All right. And while they're asleep, we'll finish up the cleaning…" He trails off. "What about David? It got him, and mum too. And then there's the carpet, if we can't get all the blood out."

Jack frowns, but his mum stands and speaks up almost immediately.

"Spilled wine," she says. "Almost the same color, and I'm sure Rhi has a bottle of red for later."

"And the welts?" asks Ianto. "You look like you were hit, and David looks like he was grabbed."

"How about this," she says. "I tripped over one of the kid's new toys. I tried to grab David for support, spilled my wine, and scratched my face on one of the branches of the tree."

Ianto pulls her close and kisses her on the cheek. "You're brilliant," he whispers. "You'd make a good secret agent."

"Now I know how Ianto comes up with all his cover stories," Jack tells her. He turns to Ianto, looks like he's about to reach out, but stops himself. "Are you ready?"

"No, but we need to do this anyway," says Ianto. He heads into the living room with the drinks, prepared for a hundred questions at once.

He's surprised when there's not. They are all quite silent, as if they're not sure what to say. On the one hand, he'd like the chance to tell them more, but on the other, he's ready to be done with this particular Christmas. He hands out the drinks and sits down, smiling sheepishly. "Film, anyone?"

That gets them started with the questions. First Rhiannon, then Johnny, then David. When Mica crawls into his lap, puts her arms around his neck, and asks if he's met Chewbacca, Ianto thinks he's going to lose it. He answers a few questions, but mostly waits for the sedative to take effect. Mica drifts off quickly, then David. Johnny yawns as Rhiannon asks him a few more pointed questions, but finally they both nod off. It's almost over.

He sets Mica down on the sofa with her brother, pulling a blanket—a different blanket than the bloodied one recently used to capture an alien—over them. He slips a movie into the DVD player, and Jack begins the subtle process of redirecting their memories before they clean up the mess from the alien on the floor, removing all the bloodstains until there is little sign of anything. The tree is safe, the chairs are back where they belong, and the bloody knife is bagged to go back to the Hub because Ianto can't stand the thought of them using it after he chopped an alien with it (he'll tell Rhiannon he borrowed it and broke it when she asks.)

His mum is filling several containers of food for Ianto, enough for several people. She packs it into a bag, and then Ianto washes up as many dishes as he can. When the others wake up, they can pop the food back into the oven and continue their meal. He scrawls a note wishing them a Happy Christmas, telling them that mum sent him home with food after everyone fell asleep and he'll call the next day. Then he goes and starts the movie about halfway through before making his way to the door. He can't be there when they wake up, if they want the new memories to stick. And truth be told, he doesn't want to be there. He's ready to be done with holidays, possibly forever.

Jack is standing at the door talking to his mother, and Ianto's heart clenches in his chest. She looks so fragile, and yet so strong. Jack is nodding at whatever she's saying, and then she holds out her hand, and he shakes it before pulling her into an embrace. Ianto sees Jack whisper something, though he's not sure what and tries not to imagine it's anything good. He goes to the closet for his coat, joining them with his bag of food.

His mother hugs him fiercely. "I am so proud of you, Ianto," she says. "I know it was a rubbish Christmas after not seeing you for so long, and that the circumstances couldn't possibly be worse, but I'm so glad you told me the truth."

Ianto can feel Jack smiling behind him. "Me too, mum. But be careful. You can't slip when they wake up."

"Oh, bother," she says, waving him off. "I'm perfectly aware of the responsibility. It'll be fine. Bring me the paperwork to sign."

"I'll come by as soon as I can. And if there are any problems, call me, okay?" Ianto tells her. She rolls her eyes again, and Jack laughs.

"Now I know where Ianto gets that too!" he says. Glenda Jones pierces him with a serious look.

"You take care of him, Mr. Harkness," she says. "He may be a secret agent saving the world, but if I know him he'll do it at the expense of his own health and happiness."

"I'm always trying to get him to eat more vegetables," Jack tells her with a wink, and she smiles at him.

"You're a scoundrel," she says, patting his arm. "But I think I like you. Make sure he eats some Christmas dinner, too, will you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, and Ianto can't take it anymore: he needs to leave. He jerks his head toward the door, kisses his mother on the cheek, and steps out into the cold night. Jack comes up behind him, and they walk toward the car together. Jack reaches out and takes his hand, holding it firmly when he feels Ianto pull away. When they get to the car Ianto's hired for the week, he pulls Ianto to a stop before he can get in the driver's door and takes a step closer.

"You did a good job in there," Jack tells him. Ianto feels lightheaded again—it's cold, he's hungry, his face hurts again, and he just Retconned his family. He smiles shakily and nods; he doesn't feel like he did anything good. Jack's hand comes up to his cheek, brushes the lacerations on his face with a gentleness Ianto still doesn't understand.

"Let's go," he says abruptly, and Jack frowns before he nods. He gets into the passenger door as Ianto starts the car. He sees his mum watching from the front window and waves at her. As soon as she turns away, he lets his head fall to the wheel with a groan. There is little doubt she saw him and Jack a moment ago; he wonders how long it will take her to ask him about it, then wonders what he'll tell her, what he can tell her about something he's not really sure about himself, especially now.

Pulling away, he wishes more than anything that Christmas was finally over and he could finally go home, go to bed, and pretend it never happened.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

When Ianto automatically turns the car toward the bay, Jack asks where he's going, to which Ianto responds with the obvious answer. "Back to the Hub."

Jack shakes his head and points to the right. "No, you're going home. There's nothing at the Hub that can't wait until tomorrow."

"The Cirrata?" Ianto asks. "Along with any others Tosh and Owen bring back?"

"I texted Gwen to come in, she'll help them. We're going back to your flat."

"We?" Ianto murmurs, but decides he'll take the time when offered. The alien stings are starting to hurt again, and he wouldn't mind sitting down with some of the food his mum packed to process the fact that she knows about his job. "How will you get back?" he asks. "I can drop you off, if you like."

"I'd rather go with you, make sure you're okay," Jack replies, glancing sideways. "If you don't mind the company on Christmas."

"Oh," says Ianto, wondering why Jack feels the need to stay with him. "I'm fine, really. There's no reason to—"

"I want to," Jack interrupts sharply, then smiles to take the sting off. "Humor me?"

Ianto nods without answering, then ventures a comment before he can stop it. "I'll be really glad when this holiday is over," he says, and to his surprise—although how he can still be surprised at anything is surprising in itself—Jack takes his hand and holds tight.

"Yeah," he says. "Not the best Christmas I've seen, and I've seen a lot."

"With Torchwood?" Ianto asks, not daring to think he might actually get a real answer. Jack is like that, deliberately effusive and enigmatic, and for the most part, Ianto accepts that about him. He prefers to keep his own secrets, after all, though he's long suspected that Jack's secrets are much bigger.

Jack is silent for a moment as he gazes out at the roadway before them. "Usually things are pretty quiet, at least around here. London gets all the excitement." He raises an eyebrow in question and Ianto can't help but laugh, since otherwise he might cry.

"Yes, last year was quite exciting," he says dryly. "Killer Santas, alien space ships, and half my co-workers on the roof."

"Puts this year into perspective, perhaps?" Jack offers, and Ianto shakes his head.

"Not really. Last year I was in London, trying to save the world from the safety of the research department. Not hacking aliens out of my family's Christmas tree and Retconning them to forget it."

"Your mum still knows," Jack says quietly. Ianto shakes his head.

"My mum," he says with a sigh. "My mum knows I work for Torchwood. That I chase aliens for a living and keep a gun in my car. I'm not sure whether to be terrified or relieved."

"You should be happy about it," Jack says. "I think she's proud of you."

"Only because none of them thought I'd amount to anything," Ianto replies, not bothering to hide the bitterness. "They thought I was faffing around London and came back to Cardiff because I failed to make anything of myself. And continued to fail in a two-bit tourist office with strange hours."

He can almost feel Jack frowning at him. "You couldn't tell them what you were really doing. It's not your fault, and it's not like any of it's true."

"But she's only proud because I'm doing something dangerous—never mind it will get me killed one day," he adds, ignoring Jack's look of fearful surprise. When Jack doesn't reply, he chances another question. "I assume you've had to keep it secret from people you know? Torchwood?"

Jack nods. "And it's never easy."

"Were you ever able to tell anyone?" Ianto presses, pulling into a parking space near his flat.

"It didn't work out much better," Jack admits.

Ianto huffs in agreement, and they sit for a moment in silence. "Well, this is it," he finally says, unbuckling his belt. "You don't need to—"

"Yes, I do," Jack says, opening his door and stepping out before Ianto can protest more. Ianto sighs and follows, quickly passing to let them into the building.

"You really don't," Ianto says as they take the stairs to his flat. "Owen gave me a shot and some cream, so I'll be fine. I don't need a sitter."

Jack does not answer as he follows Ianto into the dark flat. Ianto flicks on a few lights and winces; the place is a mess. He's hardly been home for days, and after oversleeping, he'd run out to his sister's place without bothering to pick up the last weeks' worth of everyday detritus: shoes at the door, pillows and blankets on the sofa, clothes on the chair, mail scattered across the coffee table, an empty coffee mug on the floor, wrapping paper in the corner. At least it looks lived in; usually it's a blank slate, like his life.

Jack raises an eyebrow and grins at the mess. "At least there's no tree," he points out with a grin.

Ianto rolls his eyes, flips his shoes off and throws his coat on a nearby chair, then walks past Jack into the kitchen. "You know, if you're just staying to get into my pants, I'm not entirely sure I'm up for that." Which is a damn lie, because being around Jack always makes him think about sex now, but he's not entirely comfortable with the idea of Jack following him home for nothing more than a shag. Not that he wantssomething _more_ from Jack _,_ of course. They'd agreed from the beginning that they weren't going to start any sort of relationship, not with their history. Being alone is probably best for Ianto—that night, and in general.

"I do think about other things besides sex, you know," Jack says, following him and sounding mildly annoyed. Ianto hums skeptically, and Jack huffs at him. "Where are your plates?" he asks.

"What?" Ianto asks, whirling around from where he'd been unpacking his mother's bag of food.

"You know, plates. Big round things we eat food on. You do have some, right?"

"Of course I do," Ianto replies. "But what do you need them for?"

"To eat food," Jack replies as he opens and closes cabinets. "We've got all that stuff your mum packed, it's Christmas, and I'm hungry."

"What do you mean we?" asks Ianto, standing protectively in front of the food as Jack finds the plates, then some glasses, and finally some knives and forks. He begins setting the small kitchen table, and Ianto couldn't be more shocked when it's a proper setting, with napkins and everything.

"I told your mum I'd make sure you'd eat," Jack replies, standing up straight. "So we eat. Do you have any wine or anything?"

"Just scotch and whiskey," Ianto shrugs. "Which is probably not a good idea after whatever Owen gave me."

"Right," says Jack, with a nod. "Although a little something wouldn't hurt. Let's see what else you have."

"Jack," Ianto starts, but Jack is poking his head in the refrigerator and going through the cabinets again.

"Is the food still warm?" he asks. "Or do we need to put it in the oven?"

Ianto touches the potatoes and turkey; its lukewarm and could definitely do with a warmup. He turns on the oven, grabs a pan and tosses it all in, then slides it into the oven. "Sorted. It'll be a few minutes, though."

Jack nods. "Good. We can go see to your face."

"It's fine," Ianto says. "I'll take care of it later."

"No, we can take care of it now. It looks painful."

It's bothering him, of course, but Ianto isn't going to admit it. "Fine, I'll go wash it and use some of Owen's cream. Give me a few minutes and keep an eye on the food." He starts toward the bathroom and is not surprised when Jack follows him—right down the hall and into the bathroom. "Jack…"

"Let me help you," Jack replies quietly.

"It's not a big deal," Ianto tells him, turning away and splashing water on his face. He hisses as it stings and immediately towels it off with a grimace.

"It is to me, and it obviously hurts," Jack replies. "Do you have any witch hazel?"

"Strangely enough, I do," Ianto says with a sigh. "And I can put it on—"

"Yourself," Jack finishes, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. "I know. Just sit down and be quiet, okay? I'll take care of it. Then we can eat, put on a movie, and call it a night, all right?"

It sounds as if Jack has invited himself over for Christmas. Dinner, a movie—and by calling it a night, did that mean he was planning to leave, or planning to stay? All night? Because they didn't do that—dinner and movies and falling asleep together. They weren't like that and Ianto wasn't about to go there, not with Jack, not then and probably not ever. He jumped up before Jack could start dabbing his face with cotton balls.

"No, it's not all right. In case you hadn't noticed, I just got attacked by an alien, came out to my mum as a secret Torchwood operative, and Retconned the rest of my family to forget it all. It's Christmas and right now all I want to do is—"

Jack kisses him, literally stopping Ianto with a tongue in his mouth, so that his next few words come out as a garbled protest. But the kiss is as good as they always are, so he goes with it, until he realizes what Jack is really doing.

"No," he mumbles against Jack's lips. "Jack, please don't do this."

"Do what?" Jack asks, stepping back and beginning to clean Ianto's face with a cotton ball while Ianto stands there and stares helplessly, feelings things shift between them in ways that are not meant to change. "Help a friend? Be there to support him in a difficult time? Celebrate the holiday? What's wrong with any of those?"

Ianto has no answer for that, so he sighs and lets Jack continue. He dabs all the places where the Cirrata's tentacles smacked into Ianto's face at his sister's house. Then he applies the cream Owen left them, which should bring down the pain and swelling far quicker than any earth-based treatment. When he's finished, he eyes his work. "Anywhere else?"

Ianto holds out his hand and Jack does the same. They don't talk, and it feels uncomfortably intimate, even though it's no different than what Owen had done for most of the team the previous night. But Jack is being careful, and gentle, and slow, like he cares, whereas the doctor is more rough and grumbles the entire time.

The silence between them grows, until Jack steps back and nods; he avoids Ianto's eyes, as if he also feels the awkwardness of the moment. Ianto clears his throat. "Thank you," he says quietly, and Jack looks up and smiles—genuine and warm, as if he's grateful to have been able to do this. As if he really does care.

"You're welcome," he says. "Now, how about some food? Think it's warm enough?"

"I'm too hungry too care," Ianto replies. "Let's go."

Jack laughs and follows him back to the kitchen, where they serve up the food and settle down for a very belated Christmas dinner. Ianto half wishes that they were sitting in the living room watching television instead of the table, but it's not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. Jack asks him questions about his family and their holiday traditions, never prying too much, adding his own occasional stories though he still doesn't share a lot. Ianto finds himself enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere. At work things between them are fairly professional, like it should be as coworkers; in bed, it's only sex. Now it almost feels like two friends having dinner instead.

It's quite enjoyable, maybe more than listening to his sister bother him and the kids squabble and Johnny muddle through, but Ianto tries not to dwell on it too much. Especially when they finish and Jack offers to help with the dishes. It feels ridiculously domestic to be standing at the sink, handing his boss dishes to dry, and yet again it feels comfortable. Jack tells him about some of the other Christmases he's experienced with Torchwood, more often than not cracking him up with stories involving aliens and the hapless residents of Cardiff.

Jack pours them a finger of scotch when they're finished, even though Ianto protests. "You need to relax," he says. "Come on, let's go sit down, put on a movie, and stop talking about work."

Ianto's not sure what they'll talk about if they don't talk about work or Christmas, although there have been a few times over the last several weeks where they talked about other things. He doesn't remember what, so maybe a movie will make it unnecessary to talk any more. Especially if Jack is angling for sex; Ianto still can't believe Jack hasn't tried it on with him yet.

They end up finding an old Christmas movie beginning on one of the local channels and settle on opposite ends of the sofa to watch. Ianto has seen this man naked numerous times now, and yet can only sit stiffly next to him, unsure what to do or how to act. He finishes his drink, but he doesn't feel any more relaxed. He wonders when the movie will be over and if he'll be able to stand up when it does, or if he's locked in place because he's so tense and uncertain.

Jack finally sighs, takes his empty class, and sets both of them down on the coffee table. Without warning he pulls Ianto further onto the couch and against his chest, wrapping his arms around him tight when Ianto immediately begins to struggle. "Stop it," he says quietly. "Lean back and relax."

"I was relaxing quite fine on the other end of the sofa," Ianto replies, still trying to sit up on his own. Jack plays unfair and rubs his hands along Ianto's chest and abdomen.

"You were a statue about to crack from the internal pressure," he replies, kissing Ianto's neck and sending shivers through his entire body. "I know it's been a hard day, but it's over and it worked out fine. You did a great job and you should be proud that your mother took it so well."

"I am," Ianto replies, shaking his head. Jack continues to run his hands along his body, though it doesn't feel quite sexual; it's more like Jack is simply trying to get Ianto to release his tension, and he tries, he really does. "Or I will be. Right now I'm trying to deal with the fact that nothing about this day has gone right."

Jack's hands still, but he kisses him behind the ear. "I'd like to think this is all right," he murmurs. Ianto sighs, because he can't avoid the elephant in the room anymore.

"Jack, this is all wrong," he says, turning to find a hurt look on Jack's face and immediately feeling terrible for his poor choice of words. "I mean, it's really nice and all that, but in a way that's wrong for us. This isn't us."

Jack shrugs, but Ianto can tell he's still bothered by the now blank look on his face. "Why not? You said you weren't up for anything else," he points out.

"Then why are you still here?" Ianto explodes, and regrets it immediately when Jack shifts him away and sits up with a sigh. He straightens his clothes, runs a hand through his hair, and stands.

"I'm sorry if I'm imposing," he says. "I should probably check in on the others, make sure they've finished with the trees." He turns to leave, and Ianto feels even more confused than he did five minutes ago.

"Wait," he says, following Jack toward the door. "Jack, I'm sorry…don't go, not yet."

"It's fine," Jack tells him, pulling on his shoes. "I took it too far. I just thought…" He sighs and stops, leans against the wall opposite Ianto.

"Took what too far?" Ianto asks. "What did you think?"

"I thought we could do this," Jack says. "Spend a normal night together, especially on Christmas. Not takeaway in the conference room, not a quick fumble in the archives. A normal night," he repeats. He steps forward and runs a gentle hand across Ianto's face; it's happened so many times now Ianto leans into it and hates himself for it, because it leaves him even more confused. He doesn't know why Jack keeps doing it, but he knows he shouldn't be enjoying it so much.

"I want to be sure you're all right," Jack says softly. "I've missed so much over the last few months, and I don't want to miss any more."

"I'm fine," Ianto insists, then amends it when Jack offers a skeptical look. "Okay, I'm tired, sore, and upset about the whole alien-in-my-Christmas-tree fiasco, but I'll get over it. I'll be okay."

Jack nods. "On your own?" he asks.

"It's what I do best," Ianto replies automatically, earning another sad sigh from Jack.

"Alone," he murmurs. "Always alone."

Ianto thinks he's starting to understand what Jack is not saying. "We agreed we didn't want more," he says, his chest tight, though he's not sure why. Anticipation, or fear, or both?

"I'm not asking for more," Jack replies, though his eyes tell a different story. "Just a normal night. A normal Christmas."

"Our Christmas never had a chance of being normal," Ianto replies, and they exchange a small smile in the midst of some very strong and strange feelings swirling in the air.

"You're probably right," Jack says. He stands up straight. "And if you want me to leave so you can be alone, I will."

Ianto is half tempted to answer him with a long, hard kiss, but stops himself before he does. "No," he says softly. "You don't have to go. But it's…different. For us. Confusing."

"It doesn't have to be," Jack says.

"We were almost …" Ianto thinks about it. "Well, snuggling. On the sofa."

"And?" Jack asks, moving closer. "Was it really so bad?"

"When we said it would only be one night, it wasn't just one night," Ianto says. "So when we say this isn't more…" He trails off, hoping the implication is clear. Jack is very close to him now.

"Would it be so bad if it was?" he asks, and Ianto _really_ wants to avoid the answer by shoving Jack against the wall and kissing him until he shuts up. Because the answer is no, it wouldn't be so bad, but more with Jack would be too much. It would break him. They are not meant to be _more,_ they are barely meant to be sleeping together considering what they've been through, what they've said and done and seen. Relationships aren't born from blood and betrayal and death, from cannibals and aliens and Rifts in time and space. Which is why they should never have a relationship.

And yet…

Ianto does not answer, but takes Jack's hand and leads him back toward the sofa. He sits down and pulls Jack toward him so that they are reversed from their earlier position, with Jack leaning back against him. Ianto lets his hands roam and kisses Jack's neck, instantly feeling the other man relax against him. It makes him feel good, that Jack can relax and enjoy what Ianto couldn't accept ten minutes earlier. Maybe he needs to let it all go for one night; he'd done it once before, when they'd first slept together, and it had been amazing.

"It's not so bad," Ianto whispers. Only it is, because Ianto knows he just took the first step on a dangerous path. But it's Christmas and it's Jack and it does feel good. Warm, comforting. Almost…right.

Jack pulls Ianto's arms tight around him and hums appreciatively. They continue the movie, doing nothing more than enjoying each other's company. When the movie ends, they check in with the rest of the team and are relieved to find that everything has been taken care of and that the rest of the night should be quiet. Ianto is glad, because now he doesn't want it to end.

He inclines his head toward the bedroom, and Jack's smile is so warm and genuine that Ianto feels his chest tighten again. There is some banter, probably to deflect the intensity of the moment, but mostly they are silent as they undress one another, then climb into Ianto's bed. They take their time, careful of Ianto's injuries, slowly enjoying one another almost as if it is their first time together. Afterward, they clean up, and Jack comes back to bed, settling under the covers and pulling Ianto toward him. As they drift off to sleep, holding one another close, Ianto finds that he has no complaints.

He's finally home for Christmas, and he wouldn't change it for the world.

* * *

Author's Note:

The End! Thank you for reading and Happy Christmas!


End file.
